


Stone beneath your feet

by ocheeva



Category: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 18:37:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ocheeva/pseuds/ocheeva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Born to have all of Orzammar at her feet, powerful and beautiful and haughty the Lady Aeducan endures even on the surface and will force even the Blight to bend to her will if it takes her back to proud traditions and the heat rising from a river of lava. Bits of delightful Gorim-romance now, other bits of a more complicated one with Oghren later. Nicer companions might not be so nicely treated at first (but I love them all the same).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stone beneath your feet

**Author's Note:**

> (a/n: i have never written anyone from the DA-verse except my little Lady Aeducan before - but that was in an RP that never really got started before it died. let's see if i fuck everyone up or not.)

King Endrin's daughter is still all childhood dimples and uncoordinated movements when Trian - handsome, stern Trian already so burdened by his role as firstborn despite not even being mature enough to train with wooden clubs from the surface - harshly tells her that hair ribbons and bracelets are not things the child of a warrior-king should busy themselves with. She looks at him, quiet, her clumsy fingers slowly rising to the blue bow decorating her ponytail.

 _It's for your own good_ he tells her when it is dropped into his hand. He contemplates throwing it into the fire for lack of things to do with the silly thing, but stuffs it into a pocket instead. Trian might be hard and too concerned with how his House is percieved, but he is not unnecessarily cruel and knows that little girls are weak creatures, their hearts beating too warmly for meaningless things. At least his sister is not making a fuss, neither now nor a couple of days later when their mother asks where the child's box of ribbons has disappeared to, and Trian nods approvingly when the princess says that she no longer cares for such things.

Still, she is nobility, and a handmaiden is tasked with twisting Sereda's flame-red hair into practical but beautiful plaits, decorated with diamond pins only on very special occasions.

-  
-

The cold white light in the Shaperate stings Sereda's eyes and makes her brothers' features unbearably sharp, cheekbones and eyelashes casting haunting shadows. The three of them sit quiet, like ghosts, fingers and eyes travelling over tomes inscribed with lyrium to tell the grand history of Orzammar and the fallen thaigs.

One day, the girl knows, the darkspawn will be pushed back and nearby thaigs reclaimed and perhaps some day her father's kingdom will span the underground again, hidden under moss and dirt and rock but breathing, living, like the very pulse and bones of Ferelden.

-  
-

Despite the river of lava running beneath her feet, the young Lady Aeducan feels cold and numb from loss as it is declared that her mother has returned to the Stone. Trian stands next to her, his face unmoving, while Bhelen's tiny fists grab Lady Dace's skirts. He soils the silk with tears and snot and no one tells him to behave.

-  
-

The halls of the Royal Palace fills with guests for the celebration of Trian's entry into adulthood and Sereda coldly listens to the daughters of other nobles as they fancy themselves potential spouses for the oldest prince. They are all fine lace and delicate golden chains and utterly, utterly useless for House Aeducan.

 _If any of you dare become my sister-in-law I shall have your drinks poisoned during the wedding feast_ , she says, not a whisper of heat in her voice.

At the end of the night she practices kissing with one of the girls, the sound of their lips and nervous breaths concealed by the music.

-  
-

On the Lady Aeducan's thirteenth birthday feast, she is given two fine daggers by a smith from the newly-formed House Branka and though she takes the weapons she sends the man away for daring to meet her gaze. She is proud, haughty, drunk on what power she holds and smiles when a boy her own age falls to his knees before her, wordlessly remaining there for several minutes until she allows him to stand up.

His name is Gorim Saelac and she likes that he knows his place.

x

x

Her first lover is a noble's son who currently fancies himself a poet. She is fifteen, he seventeen and he is skilled at pleasuring her with his mouth in the way she would expect someone who spends his days twisting words around his tongue to be skilled at that sort of thing. He is sent from her bed once she is satisfied, however, and he does not dare ask for his own release.

(because Lady Aeducan has already had four people executed and he is not certain she would not wish him dead if he made demands. The ones she has doomed are dead for acceptable reasons but she is so proud and so powerful and in comparison he is no one)

Her second lover is the girl who taught her kisses, but only for a month and only with rough, quick movements against the walls in secret rooms in the Proving Arena. Gorim stands guard, awkwardly pretending not to listen to the quiet moans and trying not to wonder which sounds are coming from his lady, which are caused by her lips and fingers.

The third is her lover only for a night, if that. His House is strong and it makes him bold where he lies naked, his seed spilled by his own hand on the princess' sheets, so he twirls her plait lazily around his fingers and asks if she has slept with the manservant yet. Sereda throws him out herself, neither of them clothed though she has thrown her thin covers around her frame. Gorim, outside her door to prevent unwanted visitors, gets a glimpse of round shoulders and bare arms but he does not allow his eyes to linger on her exposed skin.

He does not even have time to ask if he should escort the man out; the rejected lover is already moving down the corridor and Lady Aeducan's door is closing, leaving her second free to go home.

x

x

 _Do you think me beautiful?_ she asks, her eyes catching his in the mirror weeks later when she has dismissed the servant girl who brushes and plaits the long red hair.

He raises his eyebrows but immediately responds. _All of Orzammar thinks you beautiful, my lady._

_I am not asking for the opinions of people obliged to adore me in the open, forging plans behind my back. I am asking if **you** think me beautiful._

_I do_ , he says, pulse quickening. Will she throw him out, refuse to have him as her second, slit his throat? She is barely sixteen now, impulsive and dauntless and thinking herself above public opinion in all matters. She would not hesitate.

_And do you desire me?_

He is surprised to realise that this is not a test. _Any man would be mad not to_ , he says, bowing his head so deep that his beard touches his collarbones. She offers no reply and he does not look up until she orders him to follow her to the dining hall where her father and brother waits.

x

x


End file.
